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"As a rule, men worry more about what they can't see than about what they can."

-

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—•—

After taking the time to apply kohl on himself, George sat up in bed as loud voices began filling the imperial villa. Now dressed appropriately, George felt considerably more confident, and he laced his fingers together on his lap as his bedroom door was thrown open.

"Filius meus!" George's mother entered the room with her arms spread wide.

("my son!")

George rolled his eyes as the older woman wrapped him in a loose hug, void of any maternal emotion.

"What has happened to you?" She asked, taking her cold hands and placing them on George cheeks, forcing him to look up at her.

George grimaced at the way she roughly examined his face, stretching his neck. He flinched away, and she dropped her hands. He rubbed his fingers gently along the column of his throat as he spoke.

"I just got into a bit of strife, that's all." George mumbled.

But it seemed as though his mother was not listening. She was looking around the room when her eyes came to rest on Dream, who had his back leaning against the doorframe as he spoke quietly with another guard.

George's eyes widened, and he shot out an arm to clamp down on his mother's thin wrist. "Don't even think about it."

His mother yanked her arm away, glowering at him in disgust. "Don't tell me what to do. Now, where was I..."

She crossed the room and, to George's horror, stopped right before Dream. The gladiator and the other guard immediately stopped talking, tensing up before bowing.

"Who are you?" George's mother asked Dream and, meanwhile, ushered the other guard away.

"Nightmare... your sons bodyguard."

She raised a brow, reaching out to run a finger down Dream's arm, which rested on his sword. "How much is he paying you?"

Dream coughed. "Well, he isn't technically—"

"I'll double your pay if you work for me." She said bluntly and George scoffed behind her.

"Stop trying to steal my bodyguards," George remarked, pointing at his mother accusingly. "Go find your own."

His mother laughed dryly, patting Dream heavily on the bicep. He flinched as her long nails scratched at his skin, before she turned on her heel, walking back up to her son.

"Leave us, Nightmare." Her tone was condescending as she sat at the foot of George's bed.

Dream shook his head. "I am not to leave the room unless—"

"—Do you know who I am?" She spat and this caused Dream to shut his mouth, drawing his lips into a tight line.

"That's what I thought, now leave." George's mother ordered, but Dream remained rooted to the spot.

She groaned dramatically, turning to George with an expectant look. Her son challenged her with dark eyes, brows furrowed. She flicked her hand towards the large man standing in the doorway, and he shook his head.

"It's his job. He's not leaving the room."

She spluttered. "I wish to speak with you privately! You seriously don't expect—!"

George held up a bruised hand. "Just say what you need to say and get out of my house."

Fuming, George's mother sent one last nasty look in Dream's direction, before forcing a smile at her son.

"I have found you a wife."

"No." George said plainly.

"You'll like her! She comes from a very powerful Roman family."

"No. I won't like her."

"Won't like her? She's beautiful, she's rich, she's got huge... tracts of land..."

George scoffed inwardly as his mother rattled on, and he looked up for a quick second, noticing Dream's face turned towards the ground.

"How many times do I have to go over this with you," George grumbled and his mother stopped talking. "I don't want a wife."

"But—!"

"Just stop!" George exclaimed. "I have been brought back from the verge of death, I am in significant pain, and instead of caring about your only son, your only child, you are busy trying to find me a wife and push me into a marriage that will only benefit you."

George's mother was left speechless, gaping at her son, breathing deeply as if she was about to burst into a fit of rage.

She sneered. "You piece of shit. No wonder your father was so disappointed in you. How selfish and ungrateful you are! Maybe I should have thrown you into the streets of Rome when you were a child—!"

"That's enough."

A large hand came to rest on the woman's shoulder, and she attempted to slap it away, but it didn't budge. The hand, belonging to a certain blond gladiator, gripped harshly.

"Thats enough," the gladiator repeated. "It is time for you to leave."

"You can't force me to leave property that is rightfully mine," George's mother's ridiculed, stomping ungraciously to her feet. "I owned this villa—!"

"Father owned this villa, and because you decided to run off into the countryside, it was passed down to me. Do you know why it was passed down to me, mother?" George asked rhetorically.

His mother blinked at him, gaunt face slowly catching up with her anger, burning a vibrant scarlet, a stark contrast from her pale neck.

"It was passed down to me because I am the ruler of the Roman Empire," George concluded. "Now leave my home. You have caused me nothing but heartache and a headache."

His mother fumed silently for a moment, before stepping away from the bed, allowing Dream to escort her out of the room and down the hall. At the front door, George's mother's guards followed Dream out onto the marble porch.

Yanking herself out of the gladiators grasp, she turned to Dream with eyes sparked with vivid emotion.

"Nightmare, I need you to do me a favour."

Dream grimaced from behind his mask. "I don't think I should be doing favours for you, with all due respect."

She rolled her eyes like an unsettled teenager. "Just listen. I need you to understand that I'm only doing what I think is best for my son. I'm not trying to be the bad guy, but he is making it extremely difficult for me."

Dream resisted the urge to swear at her out of frustration as she continued to speak.

"He needs to find a wife. If he is not wed soon, and has not produced an heir, then he will be considered a disgrace to the empire. Don't you understand, Nightmare?"

Dream nodded, folding his arms across his broad chest. "I do understand. However, I believe that his highness does not want a wife because..."

"Because what?"

Dream cleared his throat. "...because he is not ready."

"Bullshit," George's mother cursed. "Tell me the real reason."

Dream sighed. "You'll have to ask him yourself as it is not my place to say."

—•—

George did not expect for his mother to come bursting through his bedroom door for a second time that morning. Yet, she did, and this time, she seemed incredibly distressed.

"What is it now?" George questioned. "I thought I asked for you to be removed from my home."

Dream did not enter the room this time. Instead, he closed the door slowly, and remained standing in the hallway. George's mother pointed a well-manicured finger in her sons general direction.

"Tell me why you don't want a wife."

"Because I don't want to be forced into—"

"Don't you DARE! Tell me the truth, George, or so help me gods...!"

George was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't even like women, do you? That's it, isn't it? You're not even attracted to the opposite gender." His mother appeared as though she was about to faint from the pure surprise of it all.

George paled. "I—"

"So it's true?"

Stealing a shaky breath, George nodded, and with a trembling voice, he replied to his mother with as much strength as he could muster. "It is true."

Her lip immediately curled in disgust. "You selfish, good for nothing—"

This time, she wasn't able to get a full sentence out, before Dream entered the room calmly after throwing open the heavy door. He then wrapped his arm around George's mother's midriff, and hoisted her off of the ground like a sack of rice, all the while she kicked and screamed.

"Put me down this instant! Do you know who I am? I am the former empress of the Roman Empire! Are you even listening to me?" Her words faded as George watched her go, trashing about within the confines of one of Dream's strong arms.

The emperor sighed to himself and sunk back into the soft, warm haven that was his bed. He reached over to snatch his cup from the side table, taking a long drink of water, before placing the cup back down.

Slowly, and with rattled breathing, George calmed his racing nerves. Had he really just... come out to his mother? His whole body shook with nervousness and guilt, and he edged his mother's cruel words to the sides of his brain, begging for his memory to just... ignore them.

A couple of minutes of silence later, George was graced with the slightly panting presence of Dream, who's chest heaved up and down as if he'd been chasing someone, and his tunic had been pulled at, sitting messily across his chest, leaving his tanned collarbones exposed.

"She's quite a handful, isn't she?" George mused, trying desperately to hide the anguish in his voice.

Dream ignored this comment, instead walking to sit on the edge of George's bed and, much unlike earlier, when he was hellbent on avoiding the emperor at all costs, he placed his hand over George's.

"What you did was really brave, your highness." Dream said, rubbing his thumb along the back of one of George's hands, which the emperor had resting on his lap.

George sniffed. "Thank you."

Dream continued to rub his thumb along the back of the emperors hand, and George fought away the warmth in his stomach that he was becoming all to familiar with, and that he was almost starting to enjoy.

"Don't listen to a word that woman says, okay? You are perfect just the way you are."

George laughed without humour at the gladiators words, saying: "You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Are you sure? Calling me perfect does seem like a bit of a stretch."

"Okay, sure, maybe you aren't perfect, but no one is. You are doing an amazing job as emperor, domine, and quite frankly, anyone who thinks otherwise is either stupid, blind or both." Dream said, almost matter-of-factly.

At this, George couldn't fight the blush on his cheeks; rouged and tainted with pink. Dream chose to ignore this as the emperor found the courage to speak, but only quietly. "Thank you, Dream."

Ten or so minutes later, George watched his bodyguard vacate the room again. But this time, instead of feeling justified, something was procuring, conspiring within him.

Dream's kind and considerate words played in his mind like a broken record, and his brain hummed with a cacophony of thoughts.

Then, the unthinkable: a thought so extraordinary that the emperor shook his head in attempt to rid himself of it.

But it didn't work.

"Oh my gods..." George whispered to himself, holding the spot on his hand where Dream had been rubbing. "I'm falling for a gladiator."

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Hey homies, this is an authors note!

#girlbossed this chapter at 12am 😭

I'm also 90% sure that I failed my biology test— I legit had no idea what I was doing but hey here's a chapter <3 writing makes me feel so much better lmao

This chapters question/statement: how has your day/night been? what have you been up to?

Until next time,

Blue :)